The Silver Swan
by Isabeau of Greenlea
Summary: The further adventures of Hethlin of Anorien.
1. The Counselors

I am not a great teller of tales, though I have known many. Imrahil of Dol Amroth, for instance, could make the account of which suit of clothes he had chosen to wear that morning into an epic that would both amuse and entertain. Elrohir of Imladris had the grace with words that only the people who invented speech possessed. And Faramir of Gondor was not entirely without his gifts when it came to story-telling.

There had been winter evenings in Henneth-Annûn, when the cold and the dark, and the mist off the waterfall seeped into everyone's bones, so that we just huddled there in misery. At such times, the bolder ones among us, usually Mablung or Angrim, would ask the Captain for a story. And Faramir would go into his precious store of books and tell us a tale of our valorous forbears and their fight against the Enemy. We would sit about his feet, for all the world like a cluster of very large and scruffy children, and listen and be heartened, if not physically warmed.

Upon one particularly cold night, he told a story that he said was in my honor, since my forebearers had come from the North; the tale of Arvedui the last king of Arnor, and his stay among the ice-folk of Forochel. That, we all declared when it was done, had served to make us feel quite warm and fortunate by comparison. Faramir had laughed, for it sometimes seemed that the more difficult things became, the warmer and more encouraging his manner became with them.

"I suspect, that were we ever able to talk to some of our Northern kindred, that they would think us dreadfully soft, calling this cold," he had said, smiling. "They would be most disappointed in our lack of fortitude!"

We had laughed at the time, but in the days following the King's wedding, I found that there was actually a grain of truth to Faramir's statement. I spent much time with my grandfather, and his comrades of the Grey Company, and if they never impugned the valor of their Southern brethren, I did get the distinct impression that they felt that we must be softer, simply because of the softer, warmer, riper land in which we dwelt. Though they did give us credit for living successfully upon the very borders of Mordor for centuries, they also felt that we had fallen further away from our Numenorean heritage than they had, and that our blood had been sadly diluted. And they worried about the effect Gondor's bounty would have upon their Chieftain, and what would become of Arnor, were he to come in time to cling exclusively to the richness of the southern realm, and forget the harsher northern one.

Litharel did a bit of story-telling himself, regaling me with tales of the glory of the northern woods and mountains. Of the river-valleys and wetlands. Of the stalwart, eligible young men who apparently were just waiting for my arrival to have their dearest heart's wish fulfilled. Of my loving kindred, eager to welcome me into their circle. Of the majestic Eagles, and how my coming north would make them happy beyond compare. He laid it on thick, did my grandfather, to the point that I felt very uncomfortable. Someone was inevitably going to be disappointed no matter if I stayed to go to Dol Amroth, or went North. Finally, I had had enough.

"I will remind you," I told him one afternoon, as we were riding back from a jaunt across the Pelennor, during which he had pressed the matter again, "that if you'd only decided you wanted to seek me out openly when you arrived, instead of all that questioning and spying and deciding that you did, the King would not have made me swear to Prince Imrahil. If he had known that you wished me to go North, I doubt he would have bound me in fealty to Dol Amroth. _You're_ the reason I'm in this situation."

Grandfather looked shamefaced at that. "I suppose I am, lass, and I apologize for that. But," and he looked up hopefully, "it is naught that cannot be mended."

My temper rose. "Nay, easily mended enough indeed! All I need do is lay aside my sworn word so that I can do as you wish. A small matter, for who takes the oath of a woman seriously?" He realized at that point that he was treading upon thin ground, and the rest of our ride passed in uneasy silence.

Upon our return, I found myself in a most unrestful state of mind. Elrohir was not in my room, and I wanted to discuss the matter very badly with somebody. So I washed the horse from me, and dressed in the dark red tunic Elrohir had selected for me, and set out for the Dol Amroth townhouse.

Cruel, you say, to discuss whether I would stay or go with the man who had declared his love to me and whom the decision concerned most closely? Perhaps so. But I did trust Prince Imrahil's judgement before almost anyone else's, and he was much more approachable than the king. As for Faramir…we were finally upon comfortable terms with each other again, and I did not wish to hazard that in a discussion about my prospects. I already knew that he wanted me to marry his uncle. Or someone else, as he had freely admitted.

Prince Imrahil was, amazingly enough, actually at home rather than in one of the endless councils the King seemed to be including him in of late, though he had a pile of documents set before him upon the table we had lunched at in his magnificent garden. He looked up at the interruption, smiled and rose to his feet.

"Hethlin! Do what do I owe this pleasure?"

He was wearing another of those hobbit-style jerkins, a sensible choice given the heat of the day. This one was in a deep green, and it took me aback a bit, for the Ithilien color scheme played up his resemblance to his nephew, which was more marked at some times than at others.

I bowed. "It's Grandfather, sir. He is most insistent that I return to the North with him and meet my kin. I thought to seek your advice upon the matter."

The Prince went expressionless, in that way that he had when he was carefully considering what he wished to say.

"Come, sit down, Hethlin," he said after a moment, and returned to his own seat at the table. When I had taken the chair opposite him, he looked up, his expression grave.

"I have already told you that if you decided to go North, I would release you from your oath to me. You know how I feel about oaths taken under duress."

"Yes, sir."

"And I would be willing to speak to Aragorn about this so that he would release you as well. But beyond that, I fear I must recuse myself from advising you."

"Recuse? What does that mean?"

"When a judge is asked to pass judgement in a matter, and he knows one of the parties involved, either because of blood relation or business dealings or something of that sort, then he recuses himself from the judgment. He asks someone else to do it in his stead, and withdraws. I must recuse myself because I am not capable of being impartial."

I nodded. "I understand that, sir."

"Unfortunately," and here the Prince smiled ruefully, "I have no substitute to offer you. Have you perhaps thought to discuss the situation with Aragorn? He has lived in both the North and South and would be uniquely qualified to advise you."

"That might be a good idea. I had not done it because I did not want to trouble him at a time when he has so much to do and grow accustomed to."

Imrahil sat back in his chair. "You are his kinswoman, Hethlin. I think he would be pleased that you trusted him enough to confide in him."

The door into the library opened, and Captain Andrahar stepped through, with what looked like a letter in his hand.

"Imri-" he started in a pleased tone of voice, then saw me. The pleasant expression upon his face vanished, to be replaced by stern formality. "My lord prince. The Stud master's report upon the foalings so far this year. I thought you would like to see it."

The Prince extended a hand. "Thank you. I do indeed! Caerith was a busy lad last year, and I'd like to see what came of his labors." Captain Andrahar moved to his side and handed him the report. Imrahil took it, then eyed him speculatively. The Armsmaster's eyebrow rose.

"What is it, my lord?"

"Hethlin came to me today with a problem I cannot counsel her about. Perhaps _you_ might be able to shed some light upon the matter." The Armsmaster looked at me with a decidedly unenthusiastic air.

"I doubt she would care for what I have to say, my lord prince." I was struck once more by how surprisingly deep his voice was. And dismayed at the prospect of discussing my problem with this man who had already made it plain that he thought little of me.

The Prince seemed oblivious to our mutual lack of enthusiasm. I wondered if that was intentional or not. "Nonsense!" he declared. "You are a wise man, and a good teacher. I am sure that Hethlin would find your thoughts upon the matter profitable."

"Any counsel you might offer would be gratefully received, sir," I agreed politely. Master Andrahar gave me a disbelieving glower, and grudgingly capitulated.

"I shan't speak to her with you hovering by, Imrahil. Find another place to be for a while." To my astonishment, my liege accepted this dismissal with good humor, gathered up his paperwork and meekly took himself off into the house. The Armsmaster watched him go, his face expressionless, and then turned back to me. As always, he gave an impression of barely leashed energy and power, the sort of thing one expected in a younger man, but did not look to find in a warrior of his advanced years.

"Come," he said abruptly, and stalked off through the garden. I followed him to find him mounting a staircase obscured by the lush vegetation that led up onto the wall between the fifth and sixth circles. Once upon the battlements, he stalked over to the merlons, and looked out for a moment.

"So, what exactly is the nature of your problem?" he asked, turning his attention back to me.

It seemed, I reflected, to be my fate this month to have all of my serious discussions upon the walls of Minas Tirith. Hopefully this one would go better than the last had.

"My grandfather would like me to accompany him North when he returns with the Grey Company."

"But the King wishes you to go to Dol Amroth."

"Aye." I looked down at the toes of my boots, then up again. "The Prince says that he would release me from my oath of fealty if I wished to go, and both he and Grandfather say that they would petition the King on my behalf."

Master Andrahar shrugged. "Well then, it would seem that you have matters arranged very nicely. Let them get you out of your obligations, and you are free to return to your stitchery, or playing with your feathered friends, or tupping your elf-lord, or whatever it is you want to do instead of being a Swan Knight. I hardly see why you need anyone's counsel about this."

Flushing at the scorn in his voice, I protested, "I did not say that I had decided to do so, I merely said I was thinking about it!"

He snorted. "The very fact that you are considering it indicates to me that you are not worthy of the opportunity that has been presented to you."

"I did not ask to become a Swan Knight! I wished to remain a Ranger in Ithilien! I was promised a captaincy, and the King denied it!"

"He denied it to offer you a chance to become something _more_ than a Ranger, or even a Ranger Captain. Any Swan Knight from the ranks is a captain of men in other company!" Stretching his arms out along the stone and rolling his shoulders to un-knot them, he frowned broodingly. "Wearing the white belt, woman or no, you would be able to take command of any troop of men in this realm, and your fitness to do so would never be questioned. That may very well be what truly Aragorn intended for you, this business about guarding his wife aside. The King wished you to become more than what you are, that you might serve him better. A very great honor which is apparently wasted upon you."

Startled, I admitted, "I never thought about it that way. It seemed more like a punishment to me." The Armsmaster straightened up, and moved away from the wall, taking a step closer to me.

"And had you done something that warranted punishment?"

"I thought that he wanted me out of the way because of Lord Faramir."

"Lord Faramir was already betrothed at the time. I doubt that Aragorn was concerned about that. But in truth, you do share much in common with the White Lady besides your lust for the Steward. Both of you crave your King's respect and approval, yet when he asks you to do a task which does not suit you, you both immediately abandon it in favor of something you like better. Women!" He snorted once more, which immediately brought Anborn to my mind, for though the two men did not physically resemble each other in the least, both of them snorted most expressively. "The South is wiser. The Haradrim are not so foolish as to ask those who are moon-ruled to concern themselves with weighty matters."

Offended twice over, it took me a moment to collect my wits. "It is _not _the same as with Éowyn," I protested at last. "She did not ask her King for leave to go."

Dark eyes bored into mine. "If you do ask him, and he grants you leave, 'tis true that you will not be foresworn. But you will still be thwarting his wish and will, and you know it." Another shrug. "In truth, I cannot blame you. You would not be welcome among us. The King trod on many toes when he forced my lord to take you in fealty--the choice of who is worthy to be admitted to the Swan Knights has always fallen to the Prince and his Armsmaster. And even though Imrahil is enamored of you, I do not believe he would have made that offer to you himself."

"Nay, I do not believe he would have either. He knew I wanted to stay in Ithilien," I said thoughtfully; then, curious, asked him, "Would you have made me an esquire?" His answer came firm and fast.

"No. You are certainly swift, but not strong enough. I deem you borderline eligible at best. And I am getting too old to relish the thought of all the extra work I would have to put in you to bring you up to standard. So I warn you now, that if you do come to Dol Amroth, I will make your life a misery. You will curse me upon rising in the morning, with your last breath before sleep at night--and countless times in between. For to get that white belt from me, you will have to be better than most of the other esquires."

"Why better? Why not just as good?" I asked indignantly.

"Because just as good will not be good enough if you are to command the respect of strange soldiers, if you wish them to follow your orders instead of putting you on your back and having you. You have to _know_ that you are capable of defeating any of them; if you do, then they will sense that and respect you."

I had to admit that made a great deal of sense. "Thank you, Master Andrahar," I said after a moment's thought. "You've been very helpful." His eyebrow arched ironically.

"Have I now? I am overjoyed to hear it." And he strode off down the stairs without another word.

Leaving me with much to think about. I had never before considered that the officers of the Swan Knights might be as unhappy about the situation as I was, that they too might have felt that they had been coerced. Much of what the captain had said tended to reinforce my idea that going North would be the better decision to make, save for one thing:

"_Wearing the white belt, woman or no, you would be able to take command of any troop of men in this realm, and your fitness to do so would never be questioned. That may very well be what truly Aragorn intended for you, this business about guarding his wife aside. The King wished you to become more than what you are, that you might serve him better. A very great honor which is apparently wasted upon you."_

That had never occurred to me, wrapped up as I had been in self-pity and resentment at losing the captaincy in Ithilien. Once again, the challenge tantalized-could I actually _become_ a Swan Knight, one of the premier mounted fighters in the kingdom?

Mulling the Armsmaster's words over, I descended the stairs once more and tentatively stuck my head into the library door. The Prince had situated himself in there and resumed his paperwork. He looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Hethlin. Was Andrahar able to help you?"

"He gave me some new things to think about, my lord." Imrahil smiled and bowed his head back over his papers.

"That is a specialty of his."

I swallowed hard. "My lord, is it true that the Swan Knights are not happy to have me?"

The Prince raised his head once more. "Did Andrahar tell you that?"

"He said that the King had stepped on many toes when he made you take me in fealty, that it was his place and yours to choose who would become a Swan Knight."

Imrahil folded his hands over his documents. "That is true, and it may be that Aragorn did not remember it. But then again, this is not the first time he has been in Gondor. He spent some time here in my youth, and some little time among us in Dol Amroth. I suspect he did in fact remember, and knew that he was presuming upon me, but also that I would do as he bid."

"But how can I be trained if no one wants me there, or thinks that I can do it?"

Exasperation colored Imrahil's sigh. "You are determined to drag me into this, are you not? Very well then." I could hear the brisk impatience that evidenced when he was annoyed at the way I was behaving in his voice. "Hethlin, the commanding officers of the Swan Knights are professional soldiers, and they do as they are commanded by their commander, who is me. If I tell them to train you, and train you fairly, then they will. As for the rank and file, they probably _will_ be unhappy, and you will have to deal with that yourself. Winning the white belt is not supposed to be easy." He gestured to his own. "Even I had to prove myself."

That was certainly a surprise. "I thought the Prince always was a Swan Knight!"

"Oh no. My father never got his belt, and there have been other Princes for one reason or another who did not have one. And I can tell you that I did not have an easy time of it and it took me longer than some to get it."

This was more new information, indeed. Imrahil cocked his head slightly and began to rub his signet ring.

"Hethlin, I would like you to consider something. Do you realize how slim the chance was that you even got to be a Ranger in the first place? In Gondor, women are not fighters, though I understand that things are somewhat different in the North among the Rangers, and that the Rohirrim, who were also originally from the North, have their shield-maidens. I am also told that the Easterlings have something like shield-maidens as well. But this is Gondor. What do you think would have happened had you been hale and not an orphan when Faramir fished you out of the river?"

"He would have sent me straight on to Minas Tirith, or perhaps back to Anorien."

"Exactly. Your illness, and unfortunate circumstances, led the Ithilien Rangers to become your family before they were your sword-brothers. Now it is possible that, had your family not been killed and you desired to be a Ranger, you might have gone, good as your archery and woods craft is, and feigned being a boy and succeeded in being taken into the company, at least for a while. But I suspect that, had you been discovered, you would have been cast out at once to return to your kin. It was only a rather unique series of events that allowed you the opportunity to seek renown upon the battlefield." He pushed himself up out of his chair, and began to pace about the room.

"Now consider something else. How well do you think you would have done, had Aragorn given you a captaincy of the Rangers and sent you off to command strangers rather than men who already knew you?"

I bridled a bit at that. "I'll have you know, my lord, that I commanded squads for Lord Húrin and they did not know me, and they followed me well enough."

"Because Húrin vouched for you. And you were not leading them into battle, but merely policing the City. Rounding up drunks is rather different from pitched battle, don't you think?"

"Are you saying that the King was right to deny me the captaincy?"

Sea-grey eyes met mine directly. "Yes, I am. Faramir promoting you in war-time, to command archers who already knew you in a siege that was ultimately doomed was one thing. He was truly short of commanders who had remained in the City. But you have had next to no command experience, and I suspect that whether he admits it or not, he was motivated somewhat by guilt when he tried to get North Ithilien for you after the war."

"Because he knew I was in love with him and he'd met Éowyn? So he was giving me something I wanted?"

"Yes."

I hardly knew what to think. How could Imrahil say such things of me, if he claimed to love me? It was difficult to speak of a sudden. "You said in Rohan…you said then that you knew I would command men some day."

The Prince was implacable. "And I meant what I said, Hethlin. _Some day._ Not immediately. You have not done a turn even as a lieutenant yet, there was no call to jump you up to captain."

Since that was the very same objection I had once voiced to Faramir, what came out of my mouth next was total stupidity.

"Then why did you ask me to marry you, if you think so little of me?"

And he had no patience for it. "I asked you to marry me because I love you, and I wanted you to be my wife!" For the first time, I saw Imrahil truly angry, and at me. It was frightening. "It has nothing to do with my assessment of your skills as a commander! What was it you told Éowyn-that just because you were her friend, you did not necessarily agree with everything she did? Then why, just because I love you, do I have to think that you do everything perfectly?"

He was absolutely right, I realized, and I was a fool. It was hard to meet his furious eyes, but I did so.

"I am sorry, my lord. You are right, and I thank you for your honesty. I shall try not to be so foolish in the future."

Imrahil took a deep breath and made a visible effort to master himself. "Very well then. I would appreciate that. Part of the problem is that you appear to be suffering under some misconceptions. What exactly is it that you think Swan Knights learn, Hethlin?"

I blinked. "Well, I thought that they learned how to fight really well."

"And have you heard that they also need to speak two languages and learn two courtly skills, as well as mathematics?"

"No. I'd been worried more about how I didn't know enough about the way they fought, and that I'd be backward. Though I remember the King talking about courtly polish, and you said that I have to take dancing lessons, as well as lessons about being a proper lady. Those have been worrying me too." A corner of his mouth turned up slightly at that, and I was heartened to see it.

"Yes, I remember you being apprehensive about that prospect! Well, besides all of that, the other thing they learn how to do is _command_. How to keep their men healthy and heartened enough to fight, how to march and get them there in condition to do battle, and what to do in battle once they get there. Strategy and tactics, how to attack and how to retreat, how to stand a siege and how to break one. The things that you don't have and really need to learn."

"'A Swan Knight from the ranks is a captain of men in other company,'" I said softly, finally understanding what it meant, and Imrahil nodded.

"Exactly. I can pull any man from the ranks, and set him over a company and know it to be well led."

"Mablung didn't have to know all that to be a captain. The languages and such."

"No, he did not. That is a Dol Amroth custom, and we do it so that we always have someone who can treat with an enemy in their own tongue. Mablung picked up what he needs to know to be a Captain of Rangers from long experience. He's been a Ranger longer than you've been alive and is a very shrewd man. But when you are done with the training, Hethlin, if you decide to take that route, you will know more than Mablung about some things. Do you not understand? You will have been a skirmish fighter with the Rangers, and a heavy fighter with the Swan Knights. You will know it _all_, your breadth of experience will be extraordinary, and no one will be able to deny your ability to command. Which is what I think the King intended."

"Captain Andrahar said something like that too."

"Andra and I tend to think alike at times. It's from long association." I personally didn't think they thought much alike at all, but said nothing, not wanting to anger my liege again. Imrahil leaned back suddenly against the book cases, his earlier ire gone. He looked weary and a little sad. Feeling an odd compulsion to comfort him, I approached him and laid an apologetic hand upon his arm. He flinched, and looked at me with what could only be called misery in his eyes.

"I know you mean no harm by it, but I must ask," and his voice was deathly soft, "that until the day you can come to me with an open heart and without my nephew or Elrohir upon your mind, that you _do not touch me."_

Shocked, I froze for a moment, then drew back. He sighed and in a more normal tone asked, "Are we finished here, Hethlin? For I have to go to a state dinner this evening, and should begin to get ready."

Immediately, I bowed and started for the door. "Yes, my lord. I thank you for your time, and apologize for forcing you to give your advice when you did not wish to."

Imrahil pulled a book from the shelf at random, and held it unseeing, long fingers stroking the cover. "It is all right, Hethlin. It seems I was a little more impartial than I thought I was capable of. I'm really quite impressed with myself, if you must know. Good night."

"Good night, my lord." And I left him no more settled in my mind, but much better informed than I had been. And feeling a strange sort of ache in my heart.


	2. The Duel

On the eighth of July, Éomer of Rohan returned to Minas Tirith with a company of riders to accompany the body of his uncle, Théoden King, back to Rohan. With Théoden would go the greatest escort any King of the Mark had ever known-the King of Gondor, the Princes of Dol Amroth and Ithilien, Master Elrond of Rivendell and his following, the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, Gandalf the Grey and the remaining members of the Fellowship were all in the train.

Since Éomer's arrival had been anticipated, preparations had already been made for the journey and the funeral cortege was able to set out the very next day. I was with them, of course, and my somewhat confused status had provided an opportunity for Faramir. Théoden's bier was always accompanied by six Riders, but Aragorn had an honor guard from Gondor following right behind them as well, in honor of the late king. So City Guard, Swan Knights and the members of Faramir's embryonic White Company were all taking turns at this duty. Everyone but the Rangers of Ithilien, who had all dispersed to their posts once more, as Ithilien still harbored some scattered remnants of Sauron's forces.

Faramir, knowing of my presence in the party, brought a new dress Ranger tabard with him, and presented it to me, requesting that I represent my former comrades in arms in this venture. I was only too happy to do so, and was careful to make sure that every aspect of my and Fortune's grooming was in good order when it was our turn to take a shift. The other soldiers twitted me a bit about the secret troop of _mounted_ Rangers they'd never known existed, but it was all in good fun, and I gave them a fair bit of rival corps jesting right back.

Our journey to Edoras was very slow, taking nineteen days, but that befitted the solemn nature of the undertaking. It was for the most part, uneventful. I saw very little of the Prince, who was most often with the two kings, and during our few meetings, he was polite, though detached. Remembering our last extended interview, I suspected this mood of his was a defense, and tried to respect what I thought were his wishes by avoiding him whenever possible. But it was hard, for I sorely missed our discussions. Imrahil's mien was not as cheerful as it usually was, and from time to time I would find his nephew looking from him to me, brow furrowed with its worry line.

Faramir and I, on the other hand, were pretty much at ease with each other once more, though I wondered if that would last when Éowyn re-entered the equation. Out in the open air, away from Minas Tirith's memories and astride a good horse, he had reverted back to being much the Captain I remembered and loved, and the strain he had been under governing the City while Aragorn was away and arranging the coronation and transfer of government afterwards seemed much eased. The only worry upon his mind was whether Éowyn, having returned to her own people, might have reconsidered marriage to a Gondorian lord. He actually spoke to me of it once, accepted my reassurances, then apparently went away and thought about the unfairness of the conversation. From that point on, he gave me more consideration than I had given Imrahil by not referring to it again. But I grew to understand that when he got silent and a bit sharp if disturbed, that that was probably what was on his mind, and did not disturb him at such times.

My relationship with Elrohir was also one of ease upon the surface with much unsaid beneath. My tent-mate this journey was Princess Lothiriel and his was Elladan. But I could not have brought myself to have been with him intimately in the middle of such a crowd even had we been together, and he did not suggest it. So circumstances caused us to become friends once more rather than continue as lovers, and for the first time in my life I experienced what my male Ranger friends had spoken of time and again-deprivation. I liked what Elrohir did with me and to me, and liked doing things to him, and missed the opportunity to act and be acted upon. I tried to keep it from him, but I suspect he knew. His shielding was rather better, and I felt nothing from him, though I noticed him shooting a couple of extra quivers in the evening at bow practice, and he tended to stay up late playing the harp I'd given him with the other Elves.

Uneventful though the journey was, there are a few memories that are particularly vivid in my mind even now. One was the look upon Talith's and Betha's faces when multiple kings and princes descended upon them, and their little inn became the center hub of a huge camp the night we drew near to Min-Rimmon. Another occurred when I was walking up the stairs of that same inn to greet my friends and suddenly realized in shock that the scruffy-looking porch percher second from the end amidst the Sunlanders was the King of Gondor and Arnor, his feet stretched out before him, contentedly puffing away on his pipe. Before that evening was over, Aragorn had deftly finished the wooing of Anorien's disaffected folk that his wife had begun.

Watching Princess Lothiriel actually mount her filly for the first time herself, when we were but a few days out of Edoras gave me a new appreciation for a young woman I had previously considered a nothing more than a regular court lady, albeit a kind one. Admittedly, she had one of the senior Swan Knights holding the filly's head and advising her, but she was the one who risked her person actually swinging carefully onto the young horse's back. And she was the one whom the filly rubbed her head affectionately against afterwards, as she stroked the satin neck and murmured praise and offered a bit of bread. I looked up from this to find that the young King of Rohan had come upon us unawares. He was smiling as he watched the princess, and there was a speculative look in his blue eyes. Feeling very pleased with the effectiveness of my idea, I slipped away.

Prince Imrahil's youngest son was also a revelation. Prince Amrothos had apparently invited himself along on the journey so that he might take this rare opportunity to garner all the information he could from the Elves. When in pursuit of knowledge, Amrothos transformed from the vague, abstracted scholar; he in fact radiated an almost frightening intensity. It was quite funny to see the young prince corner one of the Firstborn and pepper him with questions, his chose victim's elegant eyes widening in what might have been alarm as the Elf endeavored to satisfy what was apparently an insatiable curiosity. No one was safe from Amrothos, not even the lords Elrond and Celeborn, or the Lady Galadriel. He seemed totally immune to the awe such beings inspired in others.

The Elves were curious about the youngest of Dol Amroth's princes as well. The afternoon that we were finally approaching Edoras, I was off-duty and talking with Faramir as we rode. There was a sound of light hooves moving swiftly behind us, and Elrohir pulled up beside me.

"Snowsteel. My lord Steward," he greeted us, and Faramir looked at him sidelong.

"Did you finally make your move?" Elrohir and Faramir were playing chess today as we rode, Queen Arwen's pegged travel set having been requisitioned for that purpose. They were keeping the board in the Queen's carriage, and the two of them would pop in from time to time to study the game and make their moves. Needless to say, the ladies in the carriage were more than pleased to tend the board for them.

"Yes, I did." An evil chuckle emanated from Elrohir.

"If you will excuse me, Hethlin." Faramir started to rein his horse around, but was halted by the Peredhel's upraised hand. "A moment of your time before you go, if you please, my lord." The Prince of Ithilien resumed his place at my other side.

"What is it, my lord Elrohir?"

"That cousin of yours, Prince Amrothos. Did you know that he has altered the alphabet to a form of his own devising, that he might take down notation almost as fast as people speak the words?"

Faramir looked surprised. "No, I did not. He has not spoken of it to me. Can he actually make sense of the words if he writes them so swiftly?"

"Apparently. He read to Erestor some notes Erestor had given to him yesterday, and Erestor said they were word-perfect. Erestor is fascinated by the script, which your cousin calls shortened-hand. Prince Amrothos is teaching it to him now. They're back on one of the baggage wagons." Elrohir shook his head. "Your cousin is a very interesting mortal. I have never known such a mind. What exactly does he do?"

"Whatever he pleases, for the most part," the Steward of Gondor replied. "He is the third son, after all, and thus can be allowed the freedom to be a scholar." He looked a bit wistful as he said this. I thought I could put a name to a second son who would have wished for that same freedom, had not circumstances and duty denied it. "If this shortened-hand is as fast and accurate as you say it is, perhaps I should have him teach it to me--or to my secretary."

"He says he writes the notes out again in long hand later. But it would be good for those interminable council meetings." Elrohir flashed me a grin. "Even the First-born have those." Glancing over at Faramir, he asked, "Does Prince Amrothos play chess as well?"

Faramir considered the question for a moment. "Every now and again," he said. "You might try playing him if you find your contests with me insufficiently challenging."

"Did I say anything of the kind? I was merely curious as to whether his expertise extended to such games as well."

"He is…competent." Something in the Steward's tone told me that his cousin was rather more than simply competent, and through me, Elrohir caught it as well.

"Aha! Methinks I detect a trap, my lord steward! You are not being entirely honest about your cousin's ability!"

The Prince of Ithilien's expression became an odd mixture of bland and demure. "As I once told Frodo, I would not trap even an orc with a falsehood," he murmured. "A courtesy which, out of my respect for my King and Queen and your kinship to them both, I have also extended to you."

I blinked, for there it was again, that veiled rudeness that colored so many of their exchanges. But Elrohir merely laughed.

"Oh go forth, gaze upon the board and know despair, my lord prince! And leave Hethlin to someone who can properly appreciate her." That got him glowers from both of us, but Faramir did rein his horse away towards Arwen's carriage.

Once he had gone, Elrond's son gave me his wicked grin. "We shall be in Edoras early this afternoon, Snowsteel. Shall we shoot a while this evening? Or practice swordplay a bit?"

"If you like we can do both." I responded, letting my irritation go. One might as well be irritated at sunlight or rain, I had begun to realize over the last few weeks. Elrohir was simply Elrohir.

What my lover was referring to was the evening arms practice. The cortege always made a very early start, but that meant that there was a fair amount of daylight left in the evening. This gave the various warrior factions time to train before night fell and dinner was served. It was interesting to watch the differences between how the Rohirrim and the men of Minas Tirith and the Swan Knights and the Elves all went about perfecting their warrior skills. And I very much enjoyed my shooting practice with Elrohir and the other elves. Despite the fact that several of the immortal archers were of a standard that I, with my short lifespan, could never attain, I had learned much, and my skill was back up to its former level. Which was, Elrohir assured me, not inconsiderable even for an elf. But I would never be the match of say, Prince Legolas, though when I had lamented that fact a couple of days previously, Elrohir had snorted.

"In Eryn Lasgalen, they tie the birthing cord off with a bow-string. Then they measure the length of the child on its birthing-day, times it twice, and make it its first bow. When the child reaches that height, its instruction in archery begins. _No one _is as good as the Eryn Lasgalen Elves."

Whether by design or not, Legolas himself had happened to be passing by at that moment, and much taken by Elrohir's compliment, stayed to shoot with us for a while and offered me some advice, which you may be sure that I took to heart. That evening Elrohir and I had supped with the Elves, staying awake longer perhaps than was wise, listening to tales of great hunts and feats of archery.

But before this night fell in Edoras, I was determined to devote some time to my swordplay as well as my archery. Elrohir and Elladan would drill me with swords if I asked, though it was a bit daunting to finish a bout and find Master Andrahar's eyes fastened upon me in cool consideration. He often watched me, though he never said anything, and I realized that he had actually intimidated me to the point that I'd been neglecting my sword training in favor of my bow-work. That would never do.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

The sun was but a little past noon when the cortege drew near to Edoras and found its people assembled on either side of the road to welcome both the old King of the Mark and the new one back home. At the foot of the hill and the forefront of the company stood a woman dressed in Rohan green, the running horse embroidered cunningly in white and gold upon her split-skirted kirtle, her golden hair lifting slightly in the light, warm afternoon breeze.

"Hail, Éomer!" she said, clearly enough that the foremost of the company could hear. "Glad are your people that you have brought Théoden King home to his rest! And gladly do they welcome those here who bear him company to do him honor." Ladies came forward with cups of welcome, as was their custom, and Faramir she greeted first of all after her brother and the King of Gondor.

"_You_, my lord prince, are very well come to Rohan," she said with a beaming smile as she gave him the cup. Her fingers touched his and Faramir's grave face lit up. _So much for her changing her mind,_ I thought, a bit disgruntled. Someone else was watching them as well, though with more approbation. The Prince of Dol Amroth's gaze moved from the couple to me and a wry smile creased his lips. He inclined his head towards me, exquisitely courteous as always, but I could almost hear the _Now you know how I feel_. Though that might have been my own guilt talking-certainly the Prince had never taken me to task for my refusal of him.

Éowyn greeted the many notables present, each in their turn, with courteous words. Merry she greeted with a laughing embrace. A horse was brought forth for her and she mounted and fell in beside her brother to lead us up the hill. As before, we passed through the burial mounds and came to the gate. The people were solemn and heads were bared and bowed before their late king. At the gate, packs and necessities were removed and our animals were taken from us by a veritable flood of green-clad retainers, before we trudged up the long road to Meduseld itself. There we found luncheon laid ready upon the boards and ate and drank and refreshed ourselves while servitors swiftly distributed our belongings in the rooms of the guest hall. For whatever reason, Éowyn seemed much more at ease this time, and certainly no one could fault her efficiency.

Space was at something of a premium, for Aragorn had brought a respectable escort, and the Elves were present in large numbers. Even Faramir's newly formed White Company had managed to find a dozen men to escort their lord as his station demanded. Thus I found myself somewhat to my dismay sharing a room with Princess Lothiriel once more. Not that the princess was uncongenial company, but I had been hoping to have a bit of privacy, that Elrohir and I might have some time together.

Lothiriel was all too aware of this, and kindly offered to make herself scarce in the evenings for as long as possible, but I told her that was not necessary. Elrohir and I would simply have to find our own solution to the problem; there was no need for her to be inconvenienced. She nodded, happily settled down to puttering about in her gowns with the assistance of her lady in waiting, and I went out to check upon my horses.

They were well-stabled, and certainly wanted for nothing, but I spent the remainder of the afternoon until arms practice grooming them and working with Mischief a little upon the long-line. The half day of journeying had settled her to the point that we had a very successful lesson. Then I went forth in search of lessons of my own.

There was a courtyard below the hill that held Meduseld, and it was upon this that the warriors had gathered. Prince Imrahil was there, with his Armsmaster and Swan Knights, and as I waited for Elrohir to arrive, I spent a little time watching Captain Andrahar and his master. The Armsmaster was drilling the Prince personally, and it was intriguing to watch how he made Imrahil stretch for a long while then fight at quarter speed, then half speed before he would let him spar normally. The Prince seemed almost fully recovered, though he did pause at one point to confer with his trainer, who laid a hand upon his leg, and appeared to be asking some questions. Then their bout continued again more slowly. I wondered if he would actually be up to sparring with Éomer as he had threatened the last time we were here.

Eventually, Elrohir and Elladan both showed up, and drilled me at anything but half-speed till I was quite out of breath and feeling that I'd done much to make up for the neglect of my sword-play. Then the King arrived and made me spar with him for a while. That was every bit as humiliating as I'd thought it would be upon our first meeting, though it was educational as well. Aragorn was that rarity, a big man who was both strong and swift, and I was very glad I wasn't fighting him for real. When I'd exhausted my second wind, I cried mercy, and we all paused to catch our breath. It was then that it happened.

The Elves tended to keep to themselves when practicing, and few of the mortals would trouble to approach them. Even those who revered Elves, like Faramir, did not seem inclined to ask to spar with them. Nor did the Elves seem overmuch curious about mortal martial techniques. Except for Glorfindel.

From things Elrohir had told me, I gathered that Glorfindel was Elrond's most formidable warrior, and the one responsible for training Imladris' defenders. More than once upon the journey, I had seen him watching the Armsmaster drill his men. Now he was doing it again, and even as I watched, the elf seemed to come to a decision. He strode across the practice ground to that portion of it where the warriors in blue and silver were gathered, and walked right up to the Armsmaster, who halted his supervision of the weapons drills to stare up at the tall warrior in a less than welcoming manner.

"I was wondering, Armsmaster, if you would agree to a friendly sparring match with me?" the golden Balrog-slayer asked. Captain Andrahar gave him a very flat look.

"Why would you wish to do that?"

"I have watched you instruct you men upon our journey. And you are reputed to be one of the best bladesmen in Gondor. I would very much like to try my steel against yours."

The Armsmaster had to look up a way to meet the blue and guileless gaze. Glorfindel, his beautiful hair tumbled over his shoulders, glowing in the afternoon light, looked absolutely sincere. After a moment the Swan Knight nodded once, abruptly.

"Do you have a preference as to weapons?" he asked.

Glorfindel smiled pleasantly. "As to that, I understand that you enjoy the two-sword style. It is one I enjoy as well. Would that be acceptable to you?"

"It is. Wood or steel?" The Armsmaster's words were clipped, as if he were reluctant despite his agreement, though whether it was reluctance to fight Glorfindel or reluctance to fight an elf in general, I was not sure.

"Steel, if it please you."

"It pleases me."

A murmur went up from the men who surrounded us and who had stopped their own arms play upon hearing what was proposed. More were coming over, leaving their own bouts as they discerned that something interesting was happening. I felt a presence at my other elbow and turned my head to discover the Prince, who was watching the exchange with a faint frown upon his face.

"My lord? Is all well?" Intent upon the proceedings, he shook himself and turned his attention back to me with a smile.

"Oh yes, Hethlin. All is well."

"I should not worry, my lord prince," Elrohir said. His tone was smug. "Glorfindel will let no harm befall your friend. He has instructed many of our greatest warriors over the ages, including my brother, myself, and Estel. Your man is reputed to be good, my lord prince, but this is a foe far beyond him. He will scarce have time to become winded."

Prince Imrahil had always been exquisitely courteous and respectful to the Elves, and tolerant of Elrohir and his relationship with me. But now, suddenly, there was sea-rime in the gaze he turned upon Master Elrond's son. Where slurs upon his sworn brother's reputation were concerned, the Prince apparently had no sense of humor His eyes met Elrohir's and held them, as most men could not do.

"We shall see, my Lord Elrohir," was all he said, but I could hear the anger welling beneath the quiet reply and knew that my lover could as well. Elrohir's eyebrow flew up. What further might have passed between them I was not to learn, for Elladan came up at that moment.

"Glorfindel is dueling? This should be interesting. And br-…" Elrohir must have sent him a very sharp warning, for he never finished the sentence, being careful instead to smile pleasantly at the Prince, who gave him as dour a look as I'd ever seen my liege lord make. Imrahil then turned his attention pointedly back to the combatants who were finishing their preparations.

Glorfindel, who had been fighting in padding with wooden blades, was donning his armor. It was beautiful, the mail washed with silver like the Prince's, the plate pieces and helm elaborately chased and wrought in what I thought must be mithril and gold. Captain Andrahar had been sparring in his armor, but his blades were being fetched to him by Lord Liahan. A dense circle was forming about the two fighters as Riders, Swan Knights, City Guard, White Company and the elven guard contingents from Imladris and Lorien all drew in close to watch. I could see King Éomer across the circle from us, with Aragorn, Faramir and his sister, who was nestled within the circle of Faramir's arm.

Éowyn spied me beside the Prince and waved, smiling. Faramir, looking to where she pointed, also waved. His lady tugged at his arm, obviously expressing a desire to join us, but he hesitated for a moment. I preferred to think that he was weighing the pleasure of his uncle's company against the annoyance of Elrohir's, rather than that he was hesitant about meeting me. Eventually, he gave in to her demands, and they worked their way to the outside of the ring of spectators, walked around it, then wormed their way back in to a place upon the Prince's other side.

"Nephew," Imrahil acknowledged Faramir with a nod upon their arrival, then smiled at Éowyn. "Niece." She was a tall woman, but the Prince had the stature that came from his Numenorean blood, so that she still had to stand up upon her toes to kiss his cheek.

"Uncle," she responded with not a little satisfaction, slipping her arm through his. Having lost a cousin who had been like a brother unto her, and an uncle who had stood in a father's place, not to mention her own father and mother, it must have been a welcome change to finally be acquiring relatives instead of losing them. "We have come to cheer Dol Amroth on."

"It is your duty as kinsmen," the Prince agreed gravely.

Faramir leaned forward from Éowyn's far side to smile at me, which did much to relieve my earlier worry.

"Watch carefully, Heth, you're going to see some real swordplay."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Imrahil said before I could answer, his tone extremely dry. "I have it on good authority that the bout will be very brief. So she might want to refrain from blinking."

Faramir gave his uncle a surprised look, sensing the ire beneath the irony, but said nothing further. Elladan and Elrohir each gave us chagrined glances, but also kept silent.

Upon the field, the King and Lord Celeborn had stepped forward with staffs to officiate. The two fighters had armed and armored themselves, and now stood a few paces apart from each other.

"Are you ready?" the King called out.

"Yes," Glorfindel's dulcet voice rang out.

"Yes," growled the Armsmaster's bass.

"Then lay on!" cried the King, and the duel commenced.

The opponents circled each other cagily at first, feinting and testing defenses, then Glorfindel moved into the offensive. He seemed to me not so much a fighter as a force of nature, a golden whirlwind or a sunlit rock fall dropping upon one's head. Elrohir had finally explained to me about the Balrog, and Gondolin, and Glorfindel's unique status among the Elves of Middle-earth. There was no way a mere mortal should have been able to withstand him. Particularly when Glorfindel had an advantage in reach and strength over said mortal, and the blessing of eternal youth as well.

Yet somehow the Armsmaster did. Darker and smaller, he seemed stunted, almost dwarf-like next to the glowing magnificence that was Glorfindel. In what was almost certainly the late afternoon of his career as a warrior, he had undoubtedly absorbed many tricks and techniques, though there should have been no comparison between his five decades of experience and the Elf's thousands. Yet Glorfindel's blades could not find their way through his defenses, and the Elf was not having the easy time of it that his friends expected. Blades clashed and sparked, and attacks and parries of surpassing skill were being made. I had some skill with a sword myself, or I would never have survived the war, yet I could not imagine ever being able to fight to the standard that these two warriors exhibited. Glancing over at the Prince, I found his attention was totally riveted upon the combat, his hand white-knuckled upon his sword. Faramir and Éowyn were also watching intently, exchanging quiet commentary.

Out upon the field something happened. The pace quickened, and beside me, Elrohir shifted a bit.

_**What is it**_? I asked through our link, not wanting to antagonize the Prince.

_**Glorfindel just stopped playing**_, came his response, and I detected a faint tinge of surprise.

If I thought the swordplay had been impressive before, what I saw then was superb. Captain Andrahar had never taken wife nor sired child; he had, t'was said, no bride but the sword. And the results of that dedication showed. Though I did not like the Armsmaster personally, and knew that he did not care for me, I nonetheless felt an odd, proud kinship with the man, for in this mixed company of mortals and immortals, he was upholding the honor of the race of Men most magnificently. Glancing across the circle, I could see my feeling reflected upon the faces of the Rohirrim and the men of Gondor, all of us sending silent encouragement to the Haradrim who fought, it seemed, for us all.

There was absolute silence from the audience, as if we feared the slightest sound would distract the combatants and cause some dreadful mishap. To spar at such a level with steel was something only a true sword master would attempt, and no one wanted to see either participant harmed. I actually jumped when beside me the Prince murmured something softly in Haradric.

"What was that?" I asked him equally softly.

"Poetry," came his quiet response. His eyes never left the battle. "The translation would be something along the line of:

'_All others give way_

_When the tiger comes down to drink.'"_

Faramir shot his uncle an appreciative look. "Boromir actually liked that one, did you know?" he said.

"I know who taught it to him," Imrahil murmured, still intent upon the bout. Faramir got a rather odd expression upon his face and said no more.

The fighting went on for much longer than I had expected, but the audience never grew restless or bored. This was something worthy of a tale, the Armsmasters of two races matching skills. It finally ended in a flurry of blows and parries too fast for me to follow. The two combatants were almost chest to chest when they came to rest, and I could see that one of Glorfindel's swords was at Andrahar's throat.

But- "Double kill," Celeborn of Lorien called, and Aragorn of Gondor concurred. A second look showed me that one of Captain Andrahar's blades, which was on the side away from me and difficult to see, was poised with its tip up under the lower edge of the elf-lord's cuirass.

Muttering broke out in the audience, who had expected an outright victory from one party or the other, but it was silenced when Glorfindel raised his hand after sheathing his swords. Andrahar also sheathed his weapons, and the two stood there eyeing each other without moving from where they had finished.

"You gave me an opening," the elf-lord said, loud enough to be heard by all. "You bought my defeat with your own. Why?"

"T'was the only course of action available to me," the Captain replied, his chest heaving. He was out of breath as Glorfindel was not. "I could not vanquish you. I tell my students that a victory bought with their lives is no victory at all, that they should study to increase their skills and stay alive as long as possible. But there are times when that is not possible, that one might have to make a decision to spend one's life towards a certain end. Had we been upon a battlefield in truth, and on opposite sides, I would have considered it worth my life to take you down, for you are the best with a blade I have ever seen." He paused for a moment, then lifted his chin slightly. "You will be here for several days yet. Teach me."

More murmuring from the spectators, elf and man alike. Beside me, the Prince softly said, "_Oh, Andra." _There was such a wealth of love and pride and pain in those two words that I shivered to hear it.

The Lord Glorfindel inclined his head graciously, and that glow he had about him always seemed to intensify .

"There is nothing I can teach you as master to student," he said, his eyes burning bright as blue stars, "for all of the truly important things you know already. Dol Amroth is fortunate indeed in her Armsmaster! You remind me of the mighty-thewed Fathers of Men whom my kindred fought beside in the Elder Days. But I would gladly share with you as master to master. Dine with me this evening, if you would. I would hear of your southern sword masters."

Captain Andrahar considered the invitation for a moment, then gave another of his abrupt nods. Suddenly, the Prince was gone from my side, moving towards the two warriors as the crowd surged inward to extend their congratulations. He reached his oath-brother first before anyone, and draping an arm about his shoulders, began greeting Andrahar's well-wishers with his usual charismatic charm. _Basking in reflected glory_, I thought at first, surprised and a bit disapproving, for such a tactic seemed very unlike the Prince. But then, for just a moment, I thought I saw the Armsmaster's impassive manner crack, and something that might have been gratitude in his eyes as he looked up at his taller liege lord. _No, being a buffer between the captain and the crowd_, I realized. And remembered what I had heard but moments earlier in Imrahil's voice, and the years of loving friendship the two men shared.

How could I ever wed him when the person closest to his heart disapproved of me? I would not have him torn between us. It was but another reason the union would not work out.

"That was…unexpected," said Elladan, and Elrohir nodded. Faramir looked at them both.

"Surely the two of _you_, of all people, recognize the worthiness of both races?" he asked simply, and without the veiled animosity he exhibited at times towards Elrohir.

"Indeed, your point is well made, my lord Steward," Elrohir responded. Bowing, the two Peredhil then left us to go offer their congratulations to Glorfindel, and I moved into the space the Prince had vacated beside Éowyn. I smiled at her, then looked past her to her betrothed.

"How long have the two of them been together?" I asked Faramir, indicating the Prince and the Armsmaster with a nod of my head.

"Since they were both sixteen. Many true brothers are not so close," came his response.

"It would be a difficulty," I told him, knowing that he knew of what I spoke. There came a bit of a challenging gleam in his eyes.

"Not an insurmountable one, I deem. You would have to come up with a better reason than that, Heth. Though I would be glad to discuss your reservations with you any time you like."

Éowyn looked at us curiously. "Whatever are the two of you talking about?"

Faramir answered easily while I was still trying to figure out how to frame a response that would not reveal Imrahil's interest in me. "Heth is having second thoughts about going to Dol Amroth."

The White Lady's eyes widened. "But Heth! 'Tis such an opportunity for you!"

I grimaced. "Having seen the Swan Knights fight, I am not sure I could ever be so good."

Éowyn snorted. "You will hardly know if you do not try. Stop being such a girl!"

Faramir looked slightly surprised at his betrothed's disdainful remark, but suddenly I felt much better about things, and grinned.

"You have been wanting to say that to me for a while now, I'll wager," I told her. She grinned back at me.

"Oh yes!" Gesturing to Faramir's other side, she indicated I should take up position there. "Come, let us see Faramir to supper while everyone is busy here. If you do not watch him carefully, he starts talking to an Elf, and before you know it, the meal is over, and he's not eaten a thing."

The Steward of Gondor was taken aback at finding himself suddenly the object of attack. "I think you overstate the situation, my lady," he informed Éowyn . "It was only the once. And it was worth the privation. Supper will always be there, but the Elves…" There came upon his face then a touch of the same melancholy that possessed me and the King from time to time, an awareness of the passing of something lovely and precious.

"'Supper will always be there' indeed!" I exclaimed. "Truly you are the child of privilege, my lord, to be so assured about it. My beginnings are rather more humble, however, and I wish to make sure of this myself!" Éowyn chuckled, and Faramir, having recovered himself, gave me one of his ever-so-grave looks that usually indicated he was about to have fun at someone else's expense.

"Here is what we will do then," he declared in his best briefing manner. "You will make sure that I eat my supper, and I will make sure that you leave some for the rest." I glared at him, he tipped his head back and laughed, and the three of us went off to dinner.


	3. Edoras

Dinner was a pleasant enough affair, spent in É owyn's and Faramir's company, and though no one was deprived as a result of my appetite, I gave a good accounting of myself at the table, judging from the admiring looks Merry and Pippin sent my way. But eventually my dinner companions went off somewhere together, to do things I did not want to think about too much, and as I had finally eaten my fill, I rose from the table and left Meduseld, going out the back door to seek my bed in the guest house.

But I never reached it, for I found a tall figure out behind the hall, looking down over the lamp lit town. Wisps of smoke, gleaming palely in the night, rose above him to vanish in the darkness. At the sound of my footsteps he turned towards me, and I could see the red glow in the bowl of his pipe.

"Ah, Hethlin. How fortunate I should encounter you here. I wanted to talk to you," the King of Gondor said. "Would you walk with me?"

"Of course, sire," I responded, willingly enough for I had stiffened a bit during dinner from the day's journey and the afternoon's exercise and thought a walk might be just the thing to loosen me back up before bedtime. Without further comment Aragorn started off around the outside of Meduseld, moving deftly around the few people also taking the night air, and I fell in beside him. After a moment, he shortened his lengthy stride to accommodate me, a courtesy I much appreciated. Despite his desire to speak to me, he said nothing until we had passed down the steps of the hall and were in the town proper, traveling down the main road beside the little stream. Then he wasted no time getting to the point.

"Hethlin, I owe you an apology."

"My lord?"

"For forcing you into fealty to Imrahil. As I told you, I had my reasons, but I did not take into consideration the fact that I would be denying or at least delaying the chance for you to meet what family you had left. So if you wish to accompany Litharel north, you have my leave to do so, provided you can obtain Imrahil's."

"The Prince has already said that he would release me from my oath, my lord-provided I could obtain your consent."

"Then it seems he and I are of one mind about this, which pleases me. I did not wish to trespass upon his authority again." It seemed as if news of Swan Knight displeasure had gotten back to the King. I wondered by what agency it had done so.

The King looked down at me, his expression a bit guarded. "Imrahil spoke to me about you, did you know?"

I nodded. "He told me as much."

"Would it trouble you to serve him, now that he has professed his love to you?"

"No, sir. Though he told me that he intended to stay away from Dol Amroth while I was in training, and _that_ did trouble me. I would not wish to deprive him of his home and family. And I am sure there are things he needs to be doing there."

Aragorn seemed unconcerned about that. "Nothing that his three grown sons can't handle between them. And I can certainly use him in Minas Tirith for the next little while. His family travels frequently between Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth in any event-they have the means to do so swiftly and in relative comfort. I don't think you will be depriving him of their company, at least not for long. So don't worry yourself upon that account." He was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "The match would please me, if you chose to make it. Despite the years between you, I think it would be a good one." His wryly charming smile manifested. "But then, I have experienced the advantages of marriage to an older and wiser partner, and am perhaps prejudiced in that regard."

I couldn't help but chuckle. But the mention of Arwen brought the greatest objection to my leaving Gondor to my mind. "Sir, if I go, then who will guard your wife?"

"If you recollect, Hethlin, I had not said that you would be her full-time bodyguard. It seems that there are any number of people willing to make Arwen's well-being their priority. She has acquired many advocates over the last few weeks." Knowing the Queen's caring manner and earnest charm, and her way of making people feel they were important, that was easy enough to believe. "What I had hoped you would be is my insurance in more dangerous situations. And it is not fair to you to ask you to forego being with your family and learning of your heritage in the North for that. It is _my_ duty to take those extra precautions, and I will do so." Another moment's silence. We were halfway down the hill now.

"Do you fancy Imrahil at all, Hethlin?"

Startled, I looked up at the King. "Why? Did he ask you to ask me?"

"No, no, nothing like that," came the hasty assurance. "He would not do such a thing. I was just being unforgivably curious."

To my dismay, I immediately started blushing. I hoped that the blush would be obscured by the gathering darkness. "I…respect the Prince," I said at last, hesitantly. "As a friend, at the very least. And he _is_ a very good kisser." From the feel of the heat radiating off my face, the blush had deepened to scarlet. It was Aragorn's turn to chuckle.

"I had heard about that. It is good to know that at least you do not find him repugnant."

"Oh, never, sir!"

"I had wondered…" and the guarded expression was back on his face again, "I had wondered if perhaps you preferred my foster brother."

"Elrohir? I…" Suddenly, every intimate evening I'd ever spent with Elrohir rose up in my mind in crystal clarity, the resulting images doing nothing to help my blush recede. "We…we're…"

The King watched me flounder for a moment, then spoke quietly. "I will not say whether you should or should not be with him, Hethlin. _I_ certainly have no right to chastise anyone about involving themselves with the Firstborn. But I am urging you to be careful. You know what would happen to him if he pledged himself to you."

"I made him swear that he would not fall in love with me before we…started," I said, wincing inwardly at how lame the statement sounded.

"I do not believe that you can command his heart in such a manner," Aragorn said, "but even if you could, there is danger to yourself as well." He took a puff of his pipe. "You would not be the first woman of the Dunedain, or man for that matter, to become overmuch fascinated with the Elder Kindred. There have been women of our folk bewitched by the beauty of Elrohir and Elladan when they came home with the Rangers between forays, and men who, upon visiting Rivendell, have found Arwen or other ladies of Elrond's house more alluring than their mortal counterparts. One of the first things I learned when I became Chieftain was that I should be careful whom I sent to Rivendell on behalf of my people."

"The Queen says she saw my father there, and played chess with him. Was he one of the ones you sent there?"

Aragorn smiled. "Oh yes, Halaran was safe enough around them. _Both_ of my Hals always were." The smile became sad for a moment, as he remembered his friend who had followed him to Gondor, but would not ever return to the North. Then he shook himself.

"There were others, however, that it were wiser to keep away, not that they would have harmed an Elf or forced themselves upon one. Our people have too much honor for that. But they might have wasted their lives pining for something they could never possess. Elrohir and his brother have been known to go forth on errantry for a decade or more at a time. It is of little moment for them to do so, but it would be otherwise to a mortal woman waiting for one of them to return."

"He said almost the same thing to me himself, sir. About the ten years, I mean. Don't worry, we will be careful."

The King nodded. "I am glad to hear it. If it is truly what the two of you wish, I certainly won't stand in your way. But you might consider that if the two of you did wed, Elladan might very well also choose to stay. Unfair as it is for _me_ to say this, I would ask you to consider if Lord Elrond deserves to lose _all_ of his children."

"I will bear it in mind, my lord," was all I could think of to say in reply, but that seemed to satisfy him.

"Very well then, I will say no more upon the matter." We both looked up to find ourselves almost at the city gate, which was closed with the coming of nightfall. Aragorn turned left down a side road after a moment's thought. "If things have not changed, this should take us all the way around the bottom of the hill and back to here, which should give us plenty of time to finish our talk." He had stopped smoking during our conversation, and when he looked at the pipe again, he found that it had gone out. Cradling it in his big hand, he did not refill or re-light it, and continued walking after only the smallest of sighs.

"Now, on to more cheerful matters. Since you watched the duel this evening, you have seen my greatest argument for your going to Dol Amroth in action."

"The Armsmaster, sire?"

The King nodded. "Andrahar is not a young man. Though he is of Numenorean blood himself, on both sides, it is said, I do not know if he will be granted the length of life some of our folk achieve. If you were to go North, and return some years hence, you might find him retired and the opportunity to learn from him lost. Such teachers are few and far between. Glorfindel is such a one, but Glorfindel is leaving. There is no one else I know of among my people who is his equal."

"Not even you?" I asked in surprise.

"No, _certainly_ not me!"

"But everyone says that you are the best sword in Gondor!"

"Even if that were true, and I question it, it would say nothing about me as a _teacher_. I do not consider myself a very good teacher of swordsmanship."

"I have enjoyed sparring with you, sir."

"You are kind, Hethlin. And though that is undoubtedly educational in its way-every new fighter you face is-it is not the same as instruction from someone who is truly a swordmaster." Aragorn tapped the spent tobacco out from his pipe, then tucked it away into the front of his tunic, and lengthened his stride slightly. "You will have heard the old saying about those being able to do, doing, and those not able to do so, teaching?" I nodded. "Well, Andrahar is that rarest of beings, one who can do and teach the doing as well."

"He does not wish to teach me, my lord. He has said as much."

"But if you are sworn to Imrahil, then he will be obligated to do it, and he will do it, to the best of his ability, whether he wishes to or not. I have known many swordmasters in many lands, Hethlin. There are few his equal for being able to teach people how to reach their fullest potential as warriors. Look at Liahan and Esteven and Elphir and even Imrahil! All excellent fighters, each with a style of fighting unique to themselves. He has honed them all, helped them find their own best way of battle, instead of trying to force them into a style he prefers, as some teachers do. And oftentimes even the greatest of swordmasters hold something back when they teach, so that their pupils will never surpass them or eclipse their fame. But Andrahar is not such a one, he is absolutely honest. Take Liahan, for example. I think he may actually become a better swordsman than his master in a few years. After the Morannon, I mentioned that possibility to Andrahar, but instead of being dismayed or offended at the prospect, he seemed most pleased."

"You speak very highly of him, sir. Is he a friend of yours?"

"Valar, no!" His expression was difficult to discern in the darkness, but the King's voice was warmly amused. "He doesn't care for me in the least! There was a time in the distant past when we might have made a friendship founded upon shared dangers, but that time is long since done. And there are things between us that prevent it now, though I will not speak of them." When he said that, the amusement left his voice. There was a moment's sober silence before he continued, and he looked about to make sure we were alone before he did so.

"In fact, before my coronation Andrahar informed me that he owed fealty to only one prince in Gondor and that I was not that prince. He would not bend knee to me were I to ask, therefore it would be wisest if I did not ask. For if I did so publicly, he would refuse, and then I would have no other choice but to execute or exile him, and that would make Imrahil and his family wroth with me. "

Agog at the cheek of the captain, I asked, "What did you do?"

Aragorn shrugged. "Nothing. There was nothing to be done. He had also informed me that so long as Imrahil acknowledged my kingship, there would be no trouble from him, for he owed _Imrahil _his obedience. 'Tis best to leave it there, I think. I am not a man so uncertain of his own worth that I require submission from all about me to prop up my opinion of myself."

Thinking upon what little I had learned thus far of fealty and court matters, I asked, "But if he doesn't swear to you, won't people wonder why? He is from Harad-you would think that he would want to prove that he is on our side."

"Ordinarily, you would be right. But there is a legion of folk who can attest to his prowess in many battles upon our behalf, and the Prince has held his hand over him in protection for decades. Also, he is not landed, so it is not so great an issue. I had been wondering about that, so I asked Imrahil why it was that he had never rewarded such faithful service, when he had granted land to many of his other knights. And Imrahil told me that Andrahar would never accept land from either himself or Prince Adrahil, though the offer had been made many times, partly because he had neither a family to bequeath it to nor the time to care for it and partly because he would have then _had_ to swear fealty to Lord Denethor. I gather that I am not much of an improvement over the late Steward as far as Andrahar is concerned."

"Could not the Prince command him to swear to you?"

"Possibly. But I do not think Imrahil would. I think he believes, and rightly so, that such a decision is Andrahar's alone to make. The Prince can command his Armsmaster in every other thing, including ordering him to lay down his life, but he will not compel him in a personal matter that touches upon his honor. And speaking of honor, this could cause serious problems for the good Captain were it to become known, so I am going to ask you to keep it to yourself."

"Of course, my lord."

"I have found you to be quite trustworthy about keeping confidences, so your word will suffice. The only reason I mentioned this to you at all was to give you some idea of the man's character. Few there are who would risk giving offense to a king because of a matter of principle."

"Yes, my lord."

We walked silently for a little while after that, enjoying the night and the stars. Though it was a summer evening, the air was pleasantly cool and the sky a clear, deep black. The stars seemed to burn against its backdrop. We passed a pair of tall, elegant shadows, and did not have to see their ears to know that there were Elves abroad in Edoras this evening. They were not tall enough to be the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, but they were male and female, their heads close together as they walked.

"There will be many more soon, I expect," Aragorn said quietly. "This is just such a night as they love." There was the brief, white flash of a grin. "They will get little sleep this evening. I should hasten to my lady-she will be restless." And he lengthened his stride a bit more.

_Is Elrohir fretting over my absence?_ I wondered, though I could hardly speak of such things to the King. Instead, as we finally came all the way back around the hill and started the long climb back up towards Meduseld, I asked, "You wish me to go to Dol Amroth, don't you?"

The King nodded. "I do not deny it, though as I said, I realize it would be a sacrifice on your part and an unreasonable request on mine. I will respect your choice, whatever it is. But tonight was not about cozening you, cousin . I simply wondered if there were things you had not considered about your situation. You must decide for yourself what you would do with your life. If you wish to become a Ranger in the North, then Litharel or any of our folk could teach you the ways of our kin and the lore of the north-lands. But if you decide that you wish to become a master of the sword in truth, if you wish to perfect your skills to a level where you are truly a formidable opponent and not just a woman who is as good a fighter as some men, then at this time and in this place, Captain Andrahar is the person who could teach you that. And it is an opportunity that I do not think will come for you again."

There was little more I could say to him in response to that, so I was silent until we came upon the guesthouse, whereupon I thanked him for his advice, wished him a good evening and watched him saunter off to find his lady, whistling cheerfully.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

I returned to my room intending to go to bed, only to find that Lothiriel was nowhere to be found and that there was an ebon-haired Elven impediment perched upon it.

"_What_ are you doing here? The Princess will be wanting to go to bed at any time!"

"The last time I looked, the Princess was still in Meduseld, talking most intently to King É omer," Elrohir said with an evil smile. "I think she will be gone for some time yet! But I had almost given up on you, and was about to set out upon a search."

"The King wanted to talk to me, so we went for a walk."

"And what weighty matters did Estel wish to speak to you about, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

"Whether I should go to Dol Amroth or the North, and whether I should take up with you or Prince Imrahil."

An eyebrow arched upward. "And how did Estel advise you?"

"That I should go to Dol Amroth because Captain Andrahar was such a good teacher, and that I should be very careful around you lest we end by wedding and you becoming a mortal."

Was that a flash of annoyance I was feeling through the link, or something else? It was hard to tell, for immediately there came the odd, stifling sensation that occurred when Elrohir was blocking me. His voice turned silky.

"There's a case of the sooty pot telling the kettle to stay nice and shiny." Elrohir, it seemed, was still working through his anger with his foster-brother. I leapt to the King's defense.

"Well, he did say it was unfair of him to tell me I should not take up with you. He was worried about your father, I think."

"It's a bit late for that!" Elrohir snorted. I noticed then that he had his bow with him, and saddlebags and a bedroll.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"I thought that _we _might go somewhere. It is a beautiful night."

Grinning, I said, "Aragorn also said that the Elves would not be able to resist being abroad tonight."

Elrohir pursed his lips. "I shall get very tired of hearing what Estel said presently."

"You were the one who asked."

He sighed. "True enough." His mood shifted suddenly, to one of beguilement. "Will you not come with me, Snowsteel?" Melting Elven puppy-eyes were turned upon me. I tried to ignore them.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Just _out_! I want to make a memory."

"A memory?"

"Before we have to part. If we part." I stared at him for a long moment, trying to discern from either his expression or the link what he was feeling, and was unsuccessful. "Bring your bow and a blanket. I have everything else we will need."

Giving up on trying to read him, I sighed, nodded and did as he asked. No sooner had I done so than he took my elbow and headed for the door.

"'Tis a _fine_ night tonight. You will not regret this."

I wondered if that was really true.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

So it was that I found myself walking down the hill from the Golden Hall for the second time that evening. This time, however, we did not stay within Edoras. Elrohir took me to the gates themselves, and after he exchanged a spate of surprisingly fluid Rohirric with the guards, the gate was opened enough to let us out. We found ourselves looking down across the plains. A light breeze was blowing, and the grass looked almost like waves on water as it tossed, faintly lit with silver.

"Now what?" I asked. "Do we walk from here?"

"Oh no," Elrohir replied, and whistled a single, melodious phrase. He repeated it a couple of moments later, and from far off, I heard a horse whinny. Then came the distant noise of thundering hooves. We waited, and eventually I could see below two grey shapes, one darker than the other, thundering up the hill towards us, between the mounds of the kings. Finally, Nimfaun and Alagos stood before us, snorting, bouncing, their tails flagging. Elven horses appreciated the starlight too, it seemed.

Nimfaun softly nuzzled me, and I was stricken with guilt. "I've nothing for him!" I told Elrohir, who smiled and tossed me an early apple from the saddlebags, then fed another to Alagos.

"These aren't the ones with the bad spots they keep in the horse bowl, either," he informed the two stallions in Elvish. "I got you the people apples." Heads tossed in approval as the apples were crunched with relish. I expected we would go over to the stable next and find the horses' saddles, but instead Elrohir seized Alagos' mane and vaulted aboard bareback. He looked down at me.

"Can you do the same, Snowsteel? You said you used to ride bareback when you were a girl."

I nodded, threw the rolled blanket across Nimfaun's withers and if I were not as graceful as Elrohir, nonetheless vaulted successfully onto his back. Elrohir gave me a moment to settle myself, then set out at a canter down the hill.

Soon we found ourselves out on the plain itself. Elrohir called to Alagos, who stretched out into a gallop. Nimfaun followed suit. After a few anxious moments, for it felt extremely odd to be riding without a bridle, I remembered the way of bareback riding and began to enjoy myself. The Elven horses ran as smoothly as ever, the cool night air washed over me and the starlight was intoxicating. I whooped, Nimfaun pinned his ears back and tried to pass his companion. Alagos answered the challenge, till it seemed we were absolutely flying.

After a time, Elrohir slowed Alagos and turned to the right. Soon we found ourselves cantering along one of the small streamlets that wended their way through the plains. Elrohir slowed to a trot, then halted at a spot he liked, and slid off. Though there was haying going on in other parts of Rohan, the grass here was tall and uncut, and in places as high as my waist. It looked as if horses had not been pastured here recently.

"Come, Snowsteel," he coaxed as he slid off Alagos, spread his blanket upon the sweet-smelling grass, and set his bow to the side of it, close to hand. Dismounting Nimfaun, I pulled my blanket down and set it and my bow on the other side of the makeshift bed. Elrohir settled back upon the blanket and lifted an arm to indicate that I should join him, which I did. He pulled my head onto his shoulder and we both stared heavenward for some time, just silently appreciating the diamond-strewn blackness above us. The night was quiet save for the sough of the breeze through the grasses, the muted chuckle of the water and the occasional night-bird's song.

"Elbereth's handiwork is particularly beautiful tonight," came Elrohir's dulcet murmur at last; then, unsurprisingly, I felt a delicate nibble on my earlobe. Turning towards him, I pressed my brow against his and slid my hand up into his silken hair.

"You are beautiful too."

He all but purred as I stroked my fingers through the midnight strands. "Do you remember the night before Estel's coronation? When I gave you the bow?"

"Yes. And you kissed me for the first time. It was the first time someone I liked had kissed me and I actually didn't mind. It made me hopeful that I might actually find someone who would love me and that I would be able to love them back."

"I was not entirely…unmoved during that exchange, though I told you that I was."

"Really? You told me at the farm that you'd considered sleeping with me before. Was that one of the times?"

"Yes."

He was breathing upon my neck now, and I shivered. "That makes me wonder what else you haven't told me."

His lips smiled against my skin. "Nothing that I am willing to reveal at present." His hand lightly down the outside of my arm. "May we have hearts-ease tonight?"

I had been expecting the request, but the situation seemed a bit irregular to me.

"_Here_? In the open?"

"We have our weapons to hand, and the stallions will stand guard. There is no one about to see, Snowsteel. And I would dearly love to have you in the starlight. It is how my people first did such things, and the way they like to best of all."

He seemed to be faintly glowing in the darkness, and the stars seemed to have dropped into the silver wells that were his eyes. "Then have me," I said, a bit breathlessly, "and be welcome."

He lost no time in responding to the invitation, though to my shocked amusement he started chanting a paean to Elbereth as he removed my clothing. He would quote a line, then open a garment, quote another line, then pull it off. Needless to say, I did my best to keep up in divesting him of his garments.

"You are a wicked, wicked Elf!" I told him.

He grinned wickedly, as charged. "And you have no sense of occasion."

By the time he reached _We still remember we who dwell in this far land beneath the trees/ your starlight on the western seas_, we were both totally unclothed and he rolled me till I was sitting atop him. The moonlight and starlight shining through the grass-stems striped both him and me in shadow and obscured my scars.

"There!" Elrohir said with satisfaction. "That is what I wanted to see. You against a starlit sky. Perfect!"

I did manage to spare a moment to hope that the King and his lady were enjoying the evening as well.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

I awoke just before dawn, in a relaxed and gradual return to awareness rather than the startlement that sometimes still occurred. Elrohir was curled warm against my back, and I smiled for a moment in remembrance of the evening just past. Then, desiring to clean up a bit, I slid from between the blankets and slipped into the stream. A quiet curse slipped from my lips when I encountered the water's chill, and I heard a chuckle.

"Why are you always so surprised, Snowsteel? 'Tis not as if you did not grow up in this part of the world! You should try some of Imladris' streams-these are almost boiling by comparison!"

"You are _not _making a convincing argument for my going North!" I declared through teeth clenched to keep them from chattering.

"Then I shall be quiet." He considerately tossed me a jar of the elven soap and an elven towel from his saddlebags, then took up another towel and joined me in the water. We swiftly cleansed each other, indulging in a minimum of playful splashing, then got out of the water and dried and dressed ourselves. There was a silver mist lying over the grasslands and I wished that the sun would hurry up and rise. Though we had dried ourselves, our clothes had gotten clammy in the damp night and I still felt chilled even after I was dressed.

"We should get moving-that will warm you up," Elrohir said, seeing that I was uncomfortable. He passed me a piece of bread and offered a flask that turned out to contain some more of that wonderful Elvish liquor. I took a bite and a drink, and began to feel warmer and more alert almost immediately.

"That is such wonderful stuff!" I exclaimed, and he took the flask back with a smile.

"Indeed it is! And you've had more than most mortals ever taste! I had best be careful, lest you start to crave it. It is not easily come by, even for our folk!"

Nimfaun and Alagos came strolling over then, seeking treats, and I fed Elladan's stallion a bit of the bread and a bite from the apple Elrohir gave me next.

"Shall we be off?" he suggested, and I nodded and gathered up my things. A bit more stiffly than the night before, I swung up onto Nimfaun and he mounted Alagos. Rosy light was growing in the East as we started back to Edoras. We made our way without incident or meeting anyone, even one of the drovers. The sun was peeking over the horizon and birds beginning their morning songs as we reached the gates of the city.

There before the gates, we found a crowd of hostlers, horses and lords. To my dismay, one of them was the Prince with his shadow Captain Andrahar, and a couple of other Swan Knights. King É omer and a couple of his lords were there also, as well as a man I remembered being told was the King of Rohan's stud master. Princess Lothiriel was the only woman in the party. Their curious eyes were fastened upon us as we approached, and though I had nothing to be ashamed of, I nonetheless found myself blushing.

"Have you been hunting, Lady Hethlin?" É omer called out cheerfully. "Or perhaps it was you, Lord Elrohir, who was doing the hunting!" There were chuckles from the Rohirrim, but though a couple of the Swan Knights were smiling, neither the Prince nor his Armsmaster were. Lothiriel had an intrigued expression on her face, and was trying to refrain from staring.

"We were not hunting, my lord king, but merely enjoying the beauty of your land," Elrohir said smoothly, seeing my discomfiture. "What do you abroad so early?"

"Business," said the King. "I promised the Prince that we might discuss the purchase of some breeding stock, and we are going out to look at the herds this morning." He turned then to offer Lothiriel a courteous leg up onto her grey mare. Prince Imrahil's saddle was upon a lovely bay mare rather than Caerith. I wondered if it was because there was a loose stallion where they were going. Berating myself silently, I sought my courage and finding a reasonable facsimile, greeted my liege lord at last.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Hethlin." That bland, unreadable face of his was back, though his voice was civil enough. His eyes were disturbingly flat. "You might see if the King or Queen require your services while I am gone today."

"I will do that, sir." He nodded and swung up onto his horse, and Captain Andrahar and the other Swan Knights followed suit. The Rohirrim mounted, and the party started off down the hill.

Elrohir watched them go with a curiously intent expression on his face. Suddenly, the Prince wheeled his mare and cantered back towards us.

"Go on! I'll follow in a moment! You too, Andra!" he called to his companions over his shoulder. Right up to Elrohir he rode, pulling the mare up at the very last moment, so that Alagos had to give back a step. A miscalculation I thought it at first, of a horseman on an unfamiliar mount, then saw his stern countenance and knew it to be intentional.

"My lord Elrohir." Imrahil's voice was chill and clipped, and he was speaking in Elvish.

"Prince Imrahil?" Elrohir looked puzzled.

"I am a very patient man. Nonetheless there are limits to even my patience, and you have exceeded them at last. When I was a young man, I spent some time in Edhellond, and though my gift is not that of mind-speech, I can tell when someone is testing my shields. The next time I feel you trying to poke about in my head to satisfy your curiosity, I will inform your father and your grandparents of how you are dishonoring your house."

I had never seen Elrohir taken totally aback before, but I saw it now. He actually paled. "You are not a mortal with natural shields? You are a mortal who has been _taught_?"

"Indeed." Imrahil inclined his head fractionally. "Lord Gildor's folk taught me when I was but a young man. And I learned more than enough in Edhellond to know just how rude you are being, and have been, for some time." I remembered telling the Prince that Elrohir had been trying to read him, and winced.

"You should have declared yourself before now, my lord."

"Should I have?" The Prince's voice was even colder now. "Why is my privacy as a thinking being not worthy of your respect without an Elven connection? Hold you mortals in such contempt?"

To my very great amazement, Elrohir slid from Alagos' back and bowed.

"I apologize for the intrusion, my lord prince, and swear to you that it will not happen again. I stand ready to make amends, should you require them."

Eyes icy as Forochel regarded him. "I do not require them at present. But there will be no further spying, upon me or mine. I cannot say that I am likely to discover it if it takes place, for my skills are not that formidable, but should I do so, I promise that you will rue it." Elrohir nodded his acknowledgement, and the terrible eyes turned away from him and fastened upon me. I lifted my chin and tried to meet them as best I could, and they softened a bit. "It is my turn to apologize, Hethlin. You should not have had to witness this. I beg your pardon."

"There is nothing to forgive, my lord," I managed to murmur.

He gave me another of those imperious inclinations of his head, then turned the mare and cantered off to join the others. Somewhat shaken, I slid slowly off Nimfaun's back and stroked his neck for a moment. The stallion gave me a gentle shove with his nose, so I scratched his forehead as well. Then, with a pleased sigh, he wandered off back down the hill with Alagos. I looked over at Elrohir.

"So, you only get in trouble for poking about in peoples' heads if they know you are there?"

He grimaced, still looking a bit uneasy himself. "It's a little more complicated than that. I really don't care to go into it now, if you don't mind." An odd, wry look came over his face. "I do have to wonder if that was entirely about the Prince's privacy."

I had been wondering that as well, but that was a subject _I_ did not care to discuss. So silently, we both walked back into Edoras.


End file.
